


Getting Into the Spirit

by enigmaticblue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Science Boyfriends, Team Feels, Team Fluff, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangely enough, it’s Tony who has to force everyone to get into the spirit of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Into the Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the wild card square on my trope_bingo card, for the “holidayfic” prompt. Through Iron Man 3, and vague spoilers for the Hawkeye comics.

**1.**

 

Bruce has never been a fan of the holidays—any holiday, really, including birthdays. Christmas, especially, has always been a source of disappointment. Before his mother’s death, it meant days spent at home in his father’s company, amid rising tensions and increasingly desperate attempts on his mother’s part to placate him. After her death, his aunt had done her best to make the holidays pleasant, but for Bruce, it had been just another reminder that he was a freak.

 

Even when he’d been with Betty, Christmas had been fraught, since they almost always spent the day with Betty’s family, and General Ross hadn’t liked him much even before the Other Guy.

 

When he’d been on the run, the holidays had even less meaning; Christmas had been just another day to keep his head down and avoid discovery.

 

Living in the Tower, though, the holidays are a hell of a lot harder to ignore.

 

Bruce flips up his coat collar to ward off the chill that seems to have settled into his bones, used as he is to warmer climes. There’s a scattering of snowflakes drifting down from the slate-gray sky, and they seem to find every bit of exposed skin, melting rapidly.

 

He’d wanted to stretch his legs, but the nasty weather has made the trip less than pleasant, and Bruce quickens his steps, wanting to get back to the warmth of his lab.

 

Stepping into the lobby, Bruce is inundated once again by the smell of fresh greenery and the sight of what seems like a million lights. There are red bows, and a giant Christmas tree in one corner, and a menorah opposite in a corner decorated with blue and silver.

 

It’s not unlike being hit in the face with holiday spirit, which makes ignoring it all impossible.

 

With a sigh, Bruce heads for the private elevator, waving at the receptionist and the security guards. All three of them call out, “Happy holidays, Dr. Banner!” and he nods and murmurs, “You, too.”

 

Maybe if he doesn’t emerge from his lab at all for the next two weeks, he’ll be able to avoid the fuss altogether.

 

Then again, maybe not.

 

Bruce stops a couple of feet away from the door to his lab, blinking at the sight of tiny green lights framing the doorway and—was that mistletoe? Bruce closes his eyes, hoping the decorations are just a figment of his imagination, but no, they’re still there when he opens his eyes. Apparently, someone had taken the opportunity to decorate while he’d been out on his walk.

 

With a sigh, Bruce unlocks the door and slips inside as quickly as possible, and is somehow completely unsurprised to see Tony waiting for him.

 

“There you are!” Tony says with a grin, glancing up from the holographic model of an enormous Christmas tree. “I need your help with something.”

 

Bruce frowns. “Does this have anything to do with the decorations outside my door?”

 

Tony shrugs. “Just about every other room in the building is decorated for the holidays. Yours was looking a little plain.”

 

“I _like_ it that way,” Bruce protests, but he already knows he’s facing a losing battle. “What do you need?”

 

“Your input for the Avengers Christmas party,” Tony replies. “I checked, and everybody is going to be in town.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d celebrate Christmas,” Bruce says in a half-hearted attempt at deflection. “You’re not religious.”

 

Tony gives him a sharp look. “Hmm, no, but I do like presents. It seems a shame to waste the opportunity.”

 

“Of course it does,” Bruce mutters. Apparently, he’s going to have to buy Christmas presents now, which he wouldn’t mind all that much if he weren’t _terrible_ at it. Betty had finally started giving Bruce a list—a very specific list—from which he didn’t deviate.

 

Maybe if he’d had some practice, he’d be better at it, but he’d rarely had the opportunity. He has even less idea of what to get for Tony—the man who has everything.

 

Oh, God. Or Pepper. Or Steve. Or _anyone_.

 

There are pros and cons to actually being part of the world again, instead of living on the fringes, and the holidays are one of the cons.

 

“What do you need my help with?” Bruce asks heavily.

 

“I’m not asking for your kidney,” Tony says, his voice sharpening. “It’s Christmas.”

 

Bruce stifles his surge of irritation and repeats, “What do you need me for?”

 

“I told you, I’m planning the Christmas party,” Tony replies. “I want your input.”

 

“Don’t you normally hire someone for that?” Bruce asks, still hoping to get out of it.

 

Tony frowns. “If I were having a party for a couple of hundred people, sure, but this is just the team, maybe a few people from SHIELD. Very intimate.”

 

Bruce isn’t sure whether that makes it better or worse. “Tony, I don’t really _do_ Christmas.”

 

Tony reaches out and grips Bruce’s hand. “We’re in this together, and I need your help.”

 

And since Bruce can’t say no to Tony when he asks Bruce to do anything in that tone of voice—whether it’s staying in New York, a date, or planning a party—he says, “All right.”

 

**2.**

 

Steve checks the mail out of force of habit. He gets a few bills and a lot of junk mail, but everything seems to be digital or electronic these days. No one sends him mail.

 

So, it’s a little bit of a surprise when he receives a heavy, cream-colored envelope with his name and address printed in cramped handwriting.

 

Steve tears it open in the lobby of his building and pulls out the stiff invitation. Even before he opens it, Steve figures that it’s probably from Tony, just going by the expensive paper.

 

Sure enough, the invitation is for a Christmas party at Stark Tower, on Christmas Eve, and the directions say to bring a “White Elephant” gift, whatever that means.

 

Steve grimaces. Back when his mom had been alive, Steve had liked Christmas. It had been simple, and his mom often had to work a shift, but she’d always made time for him so they could celebrate together.

 

Christmases in the orphanage had been awful in comparison. There had always been presents, and their benefactors had always been present when they’d opened the gifts, and they’d always had to show their gratitude.

 

After a few years of that, Steve had grown to hate the holidays. His last year there, he and Bucky had slipped out and roamed the streets of Brooklyn, laughing and jostling each other, using the little money they’d scrounged to buy an orange apiece—a luxury in those days.

 

It’s harder for Steve to ignore Christmas now, since the trappings are everywhere, Christmas music blaring from every storefront, and something vaguely holiday-like on every channel.

 

Steve misses Bucky, and his commandos, and Peggy. He misses his old life, which hadn’t been perfect but had certainly been _his_.

 

And he has absolutely no intention of going to Stark’s Christmas party with a hundred glittering people, feeling awkward and out of place and _wrong_.

 

Steve is about to toss the invitation and envelope in the lobby trash when he spots the piece of lined paper inside, and he pulls it out and reads:

 

_Steve, I know it’s probably not your thing, but Tony wants the whole team there, so consider your attendance compulsory. It’s just going to be the team, so don’t worry about what to wear._

_Bruce_

 

Since Steve happens to like Bruce, and he doesn’t have anything else going on that day, it looks like he’s going.

 

Maybe this will be the only thing he’s forced to do, though.

 

Of course, this means he’s also going to have to figure out what the heck constitutes a White Elephant gift.

 

**3.**

 

Clint stumbles into his loft with a groan, his shoulder aching. The strap of the sling itches where it rubs against his neck, and his ribs ache.

 

He’s dislocated his shoulder before, but this injury had been particularly bad, and the doctors had been very insistent. Clint’s been banned from so much as looking at his bow for at least two weeks, but probably more like six, and he’ll have rehab and PT to do before he can return to the range.

 

Then again, at least he doesn’t have to undergo surgery; it had been a bad fall, and that had been a definite possibility.

 

His downstairs neighbor has been nice enough to collect his mail, and he flips through the envelopes—mostly bills, credit card offers, and junk, although there’s one envelope made of really high-quality paper that looks out of place in the stack.

 

Briefly, Clint wonders if Kate is having a shindig, but he dismisses that out of hand. If she was, and she wanted to invite him, she’d drop by and mention it. No, paper this fancy can only mean Tony Stark.

 

Sure enough, the invitation is to a holiday party at Stark Tower, and it’s fucking _engraved_. In red and gold.

 

Clint snorts. “Of-fucking-course.”

 

There’s a personal message at the bottom. _Just the team, don’t bother dressing up, I’ll provide the beer. Tony._

 

“White elephant gift, huh?” Clint mutters. He can think of a few things lying around that might serve.

 

Clint has mixed feelings about holidays. When his parents had still been alive, his dad’s drinking had made it a nightmare, and the same had been true of the group home after they’d been dead.

 

But holidays in the circus had been kind of magical in comparison, because there had rarely been a show that day, and lots of people would give small gifts that would just appear in a person’s bunk. It was usually candy, maybe something knitted from those into that sort of thing, extra gloves, a book, comics, whatever.

 

In contrast, Christmas with SHIELD had been unremarkable. Most agents had their own families, and those that didn’t tended to keep to themselves. Clint isn’t especially close to anyone, although he sometimes exchanges gifts with Natasha and Coulson.

 

Clint had gotten used to ignoring the holidays entirely, unless he’s in a relationship, in which case he usually tries and fails to get a decent gift.

 

This year, there’s no girlfriend, and no plans other than hanging in his apartment and having a pity party.

 

He dials Natasha’s number, knowing that she’s on stand down along with him. “Tell me you got the invitation from Stark,” he says when she picks up.

 

“I had thought about skipping it,” Natasha demurs.

 

“Oh, come on,” Clint cajoles. “Maybe it will be fun. I’ll go.”

 

“I have no idea what a white elephant gift is,” Natasha says.

 

Clint grins, happy to have something that he knows and Natasha doesn’t, which doesn’t happen very often. “It’s something you already have, generally the more worthless or ridiculous, the better. It’s something that no one would want.”

 

Natasha is quiet for a long moment. “Why on earth would Stark do something like this?”

 

“Maybe it’s because he’s a man who has, or can get, anything,” Clint suggests. “This puts us on an even playing field.”

 

“I guess so,” Natasha agrees. There’s another long pause, and she says, “I’ll go if you will.”

 

“I’ll be there,” Clint promises.

 

He figures it beats staying in his apartment alone, and Tony will definitely have good beer on hand, and good food.

 

“If it’s terrible, I’m blaming you,” Natasha says severely.

 

Clint frowns. “Why not blame Stark?”

 

“Him, too,” Natasha replies. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Sore,” Clint admits. “I hate being laid up.”

 

“Be glad you aren’t dead,” Natasha replies, which counts as a pep talk coming from her.

 

Clint smiles. “I love you, too.”

 

Natasha hangs up on him.

 

Clint grins, and thinks of the soft, black hoodie in the back of his closet, the one that Natasha has worn on a couple of occasions when she’d come over and had been cold. Granted, he doesn’t know that she’ll wind up with it, but he knows Natasha.

 

If she wants something, she finds a way to get it.

 

**4.**

 

Natasha had no intention of going to Stark’s holiday party—no matter how well intentioned it might be—until Clint had called.

 

Coulson had impressed upon her the importance of teamwork, and playing well with others when necessary. If everybody else is there, she has no excuse not to attend unless she gets a mission.

 

Natasha’s vague memories of her parents include equally hazy memories of holidays—twinkling lights and clumsily wrapped presents—that are mostly eclipsed by memories of the Red Room.

 

She doesn’t like to think of the time before, and so she doesn’t celebrate Christmas, or her birthday, or any other holiday if she can help it.

 

This year, she apparently can’t help it.

 

She doesn’t have many personal effects, and the few things she does have were gifts that she’d rather not give away.

 

And then she smiles and rummages through the bottom drawer of her dresser, coming up with an incredibly ugly snow globe with a very poor rendition of the Kremlin that another agent had left on her desk as a joke.

 

It’s heavy and crude, and she has no idea why she hadn’t thrown it into the trash immediately, but she’d kept it for years.

 

No, that’s not true. Natasha had kept it because it had been the first sign of acceptance from SHIELD, and not just Clint. Re-gifting it to a teammate seems appropriate under the circumstances.

 

She knows Clint well enough to know that he’s probably subsisting on pizza and beer and not taking his painkillers, so she stops by a deli she knows that specializes in matzoh soup and corned beef sandwiches, and she brings him dinner.

 

When he answers the door, Clint says, “Okay, now I know you’re feeling sorry for me.”

 

“If you don’t eat, you can’t heal,” Natasha replies. “And you’ve done the same for me.”

 

Clint steps aside. “Thanks.”

 

“Call it an early Christmas gift,” Natasha replies, knowing that he has no way of knowing how worried she’d been for him when the news had come in that he’d been injured but not how badly.

 

She’s not quite over nearly losing him to Loki, if she’s being honest—not that she’ll ever tell Clint that.

 

“Sorry about the mess,” Clint says, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand.

 

Natasha glances around at the dust and clutter and asks, “And it’s different than it usually is, how?”

 

“Point,” Clint agrees. “I think I have some clean dishes.”

 

“I think we’ll manage,” Natasha says dryly.

 

She ends up having to wash a couple of spoons—Clint only owns three, and all of them are dirty, but they eat warm soup out of the plastic tubs and the sandwiches out of the wrappers.

 

“You have your white elephant gift picked out yet?” Clint asks halfway through his sandwich.

 

Natasha smiles. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Do you?”

 

Clint tries to shrug and then winces. “Still thinking about it. I have a couple of days before I have to decide. What are you bringing?”

 

“That would be telling,” Natasha replies severely. “Which I would never do.”

 

“Oh, right. It’s stupid of me to ask,” Clint teases. “You want to stick around? Watch some _Dog Cops_?”

 

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t say no. She’ll never admit it, but she likes _Dog Cops_ , and if she’s there, she can keep Clint from doing something stupid, like not using his sling.

 

“If we must,” Natasha replies, settling on the couch next him.

 

“Hey, I know we’re going to Stark’s party for Christmas Eve, but do you want to spend Christmas day with me?” Clint asks without looking at her.

 

Natasha smiles and focuses on the TV screen. “That can be arranged.”

 

And she wouldn’t say this either, but it’s the best offer she’d heard in a long time.

 

**5.**

 

Pepper has stopped herself a few times from checking in on Tony’s party preparation. It’s not that she thinks Tony is incapable of planning a party, it’s just—

 

Well, she can’t remember Tony _ever_ planning a party himself.

 

“You’re coming, though, right?” Tony asks her the day before, sticking his head into her office.

 

Pepper smiles. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

 

Tony plops down in the chair across from her desk. “Because I know we’re not together anymore, and I didn’t want it to be awkward.”

 

“We’re still friends, Tony,” Pepper replies patiently. “I’m friends with Bruce and the others, too.”

 

Tony’s smile is brief, just a flash. “I know. I just—didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

 

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “Like I was uncomfortable the first time I walked in on you kissing Bruce?” She hasn’t let him live that down, even though they had broken up a couple of months prior, and Pepper had seen it coming a mile away.

 

He winces. “Something like that.”

 

Pepper goes back to the report she’d been reviewing, knowing that Tony wants something else, and he’ll get around to telling her eventually.

 

“Okay, so, also awkward, but Christmas day… Did you want to hang out with us?” Tony invites. “Bruce said he’d make brunch.”

 

Pepper smiles. “Well, if Bruce is cooking.”

 

“Then you’ll come?” he asks, looking worried and hopeful all at once.

 

She understands that this is Tony’s way of trying to make sure she’s not going anywhere, and that their relationship is still solid, in spite of the changes that the last year has wrought. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

 

Tony nods. “Great. Thanks. It’ll be great.”

 

“Tony,” Pepper says, stopping him from leaving. “Why a white elephant gift?”

 

Tony shrugs. “Everybody has something lying around they don’t really want or need, and this means no one has to worry about buying the right gifts. They can just bring whatever they want and enjoy themselves with no pressure.”

 

Pepper’s smile is genuine and unforced. “That’s very thoughtful, Tony.”

 

“I’m not very good at this,” Tony admits. “Holidays, I mean. I’m trying to be better, so I don’t—I don’t want to fuck up again.”

 

“It wasn’t just you, Tony,” Pepper says gently. “Sometimes things just don’t work out.”

 

Tony nods. “Yeah, sometimes.”

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Pepper says.

 

Tony waves as he walks out the door, calling, “Looking forward to it.”

 

There’s a part of her that wishes she had somewhere else to go for the holidays, mostly because that would mean that she’d moved on, and had her own life outside of Tony and the Avengers, outside Stark Industries, even.

 

But she doesn’t, and as CEO, she won’t anytime soon.

 

Although, to be honest, Pepper doesn’t mind all that much. Overall, she’s very happy with the life she currently has.

 

Plus, by spending the day with Tony and Bruce, she doesn’t have to worry about decorating, or cooking, nor does she have to think about getting into the spirit. All she has to do is show up, gifts in hand.

 

When she goes home that night, Pepper glances around her apartment, which is mostly devoid of signs of the season. She’s been so busy lately that she had never gotten around to putting up a tree or lights.

 

Granted, she hasn’t been home enough to make it worth the effort, and the facility staff had decorated the offices, which is where she’d been spending most of her time.

 

She sighs and thinks that maybe next year she’ll make more of an effort.

 

**6.**

 

Tony can tell that Bruce is wary of the holidays. Hell, he’s fairly certain that the entire team approaches Christmas with what can only be described as a Grinch-like attitude.

 

Except maybe for Thor, but he’s not around.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything for Christmas?” Bruce asks, not long before their guests are due to arrive.

 

Tony smirks at him. “A blow job?”

 

Bruce snorts and bites into one of the gingersnaps Tony had ordered for the party. “You don’t have to wait until Christmas for one of those.”

 

“But I’ve always been told that I should wait to open my gifts,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Seriously, Tony.”

 

“Seriously,” Tony insists. “I don’t need anything, and there’s nothing I want that I can’t buy myself—except for you.”

 

Bruce looks a little flustered. Tony had learned a long time ago that sincerity undid Bruce, and he tends to use it when he needs to make a point. “If you say so.”

 

“I do,” Tony replies. “What do you want?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “Nothing. I have everything I need.”

 

“There you go,” Tony says, leaning in for a kiss, tasting molasses and sugar on Bruce’s lips. “Thanks for giving me a hand with the planning.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “It wasn’t a big deal. Why is this so important to you?”

 

“Maybe because I want you to have a decent holiday,” Tony replies. “Maybe because I want one, too.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I think you’ve already managed the ‘decent’ part.”

 

Tony leans in for another kiss, and they’re still lazily making out when the elevator doors open to reveal Steve.

 

He’s dressed in khakis and a neatly pressed plaid shirt, carrying a wrapped package that’s thin and square. “Uh, merry Christmas,” Steve says, flushing.

 

“You can put the present on that table,” Tony says, pointing it out. “Can I get you a drink?”

 

Steve nods. “A beer would be great.”

 

Tony’s pretty proud of the spread he’s arranged—small, gourmet sandwiches, crudité, chips and dip, and holiday cookies. He’d kept it simple, figuring that no one would mind, and that he wouldn’t be able to screw it up too badly that way.

 

The apartment had been professionally decorated, but he’d asked them to keep it simple, so there’s a tree with white lights and red bows, and a few garlands.

 

“This looks good,” Steve says as Tony hands him a bottle.

 

Tony shrugs. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s just us.”

 

The elevator chimes again and this time Pepper appears. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” she calls.

 

Tony gives her a hug, and she does the same for Bruce, and after that, things begin to get into full swing. Clint and Natasha arrive together, Clint’s right arm in a sling. Tony had thought about inviting a few people from SHIELD, but had reconsidered, figuring that it might be nice just to have the team there.

 

Well, the team minus Thor, since he hadn’t been on the planet to get his invitation.

 

“I’m impressed,” Pepper says in an undertone after she’s filled her plate, and Tony’s handed her a glass of wine.

 

“It’s nothing special,” Tony replies. “And Bruce helped.”

 

“Still, it’s very nice,” Pepper insists.

 

Tony looks around the room. Natasha is chatting with Steve, and Clint is explaining the finer points of a movie to Bruce in between bites of his sandwich. Jarvis has Christmas music playing softly, and everybody seems relaxed.

 

He sits down next to Bruce on the couch, slinging one arm over Bruce’s shoulders and balancing his plate on his knee.

 

“Great spread,” Clint says, biting the head off a Santa-shaped sugar cookie, crumbs dropping onto his purple hoodie and his sling.

 

Tony smiles. “How’s the arm?”

 

Clint grimaces. “I’m out of commission for another few weeks at least.”

 

“That’s too bad,” Tony says, knowing that he’d be going crazy if he wasn’t able to use the suit for a few weeks.

 

Clint licks frosting off his fingers. “Could have been worse,” he says philosophically. “At least I’ll be back out in the field eventually.”

 

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Steve offers earnestly.

 

Clint smiles. “Thanks, Cap.”

 

“Same here,” Bruce offers.

 

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “You mean you leave your lab?”

 

“For whole hours at a time,” Tony replies with a suggestive smirk.

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “I think it might be time for presents,” he announces, and grabs the small bowl with slips of paper. “Everybody draw a number.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand how this works,” Steve says, although he draws a number when Bruce holds out the bowl.

 

“The first person picks a gift to open,” Tony explains briefly. “The next person can take that gift or open another one. If your gift gets taken, you pick another gift. If a gift gets stolen twice, the last person who has it owns it.”

 

Pepper gets the first choice, and she picks a bright green gift bag that contains a battered hardback.  She checks the spine and reads aloud, “ _A Brief History of Time_.”

 

Bruce appears a little abashed. “I’ve had that copy for a few years.”

 

“I’ve never read it,” Pepper replies with a smile. “But I probably should.”

 

Bruce has number two, and he chooses another gift bag, one that contains a snow globe that contains a crude rendition of the Kremlin. Bruce shakes it and smiles.

 

“I’ve had it for a long time,” Natasha says.

 

Bruce sets it on the table in front of him. “I like it.”

 

Steve is next, and he rips open the paper to reveal _Casablanca_ on DVD. “I never got the chance to see this,” he murmurs.

 

“I’ve watched it a few times,” Pepper says.

 

So far, no one seems inclined to steal, which is usually what makes white elephant exchanges fun, but everyone seems pretty happy with what they’ve wound up with.

 

Clint’s up next, and he looks over what’s already been opened. “Tempting, but I’ve always been a gambler.”

 

He winds up opening Tony’s gift, crowing with glee when he sees the six-inch high robot. “Is this—”

 

“Voice activated,” Tony says.

 

Clint sets it on the floor. “What kind of commands?”

 

“Forward,” Tony says, and the robot moves forward on its treads, chirping happily. “Stop. Fire.”

 

The ‘bot fires a small pellet at Steve’s ankle, which Steve can’t quite dodge in time. “Ow!”

 

Clint grins broadly. “This is awesome!”

 

That leaves Natasha and Tony, but Tony’s drawn number six, so it’s her turn. She opens a shirt box to find a black fleece lined hoodie, and she glances at Clint, who shrugs. “It’s not really my color.”

 

She smiles, her expression soft and strokes the fleece.

 

Tony’s tempted to steal it, but Natasha gives him a hard look that clearly promises retribution if he does, and he’s not interested in any of the other items. That leaves the wrapped, square package that Steve had contributed.

 

Tony has no idea what Steve might have brought, but he figures it’s probably going to be something terribly boring.

 

But when he rips open the paper, he finds a pencil drawing in a simple wooden frame, and he just stares at the clearly recognizable cartoon figures—it’s the team in what is clearly meant to be a post-battle scene. He’s in his suit with the helmet off next to a building, standing next to the Hulk, who is crouched on the sidewalk in tattered pants. Steve is there with his cowl off, and Thor stands next to him, his hammer hanging from his hand. Clint is there, too, with his bow in hand, and Natasha is flipping a knife.

 

Tony realizes that he’s got a stupid grin on his face.

 

“Is it okay?” Steve asks quietly. “I wasn’t sure.”

 

Bruce looks over Tony’s shoulder. “Steve, this is great.”

 

“It is,” Tony adds. “It’s going up on the wall in my lab.”

 

Steve looks pleased, his face slightly flushed. “I’m glad you like it.”

 

Just about everybody in the room is looking at Tony’s gift with obvious envy. “I don’t suppose you take commissions,” Pepper says.

 

Steve gives her a startled look. “Really?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Clint says as Tony holds it up for everyone to see.

 

Steve shrugs. “Well, yeah. Just let me know what you would like.”

 

After that, Bruce suggests a movie, and Steve offers up _Casablanca_. It’s not exactly a holiday movie, but no one seems to mind. Bruce leans against Tony, and Tony pulls him close. Pepper sits next to Steve, talking quietly during the movie, while Clint lies on his good side with his head in Natasha’s lap.

 

Tony thinks that this might be one of the best Christmas Eves he’s ever had.

 

When the movie is over, Clint and Natasha leave together, Natasha wearing her new hoodie under her coat. Steve offers to see Pepper home, and she accepts. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” she promises.

 

Bruce glances around the Penthouse and says, “I guess we could leave cleanup until tomorrow.”

 

“Bruce, have I taught you nothing?” Tony asks. “That’s what I have cleaning people for.”

 

Bruce gives him a look. “Don’t they have the day off?”

 

Tony thinks about it for a minute, and then has to nod. “I guess they do. Tomorrow it is.”

 

Bruce gives him a long look, and then says quietly. “Thank you.”

 

Tony doesn’t ask for clarification. He knows Bruce well enough by now to know that he’d enjoyed the evening as much as Tony had. “Anything for you,” he says instead.

 

Bruce smiles and glances after the clock; it’s after midnight. “I think you have a present to unwrap.”

 

Tony grins. “Looks like it. Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

 

And as Bruce hauls him in for a kiss, Tony knows that Bruce has finally gotten into the spirit.


End file.
